General Mbonda stood tall and proud in his jeep as his army rolled cross the undefended border into Kenya. Three thousand of Uganda's finest infantry backed by seventy surplus Soviet tanks made up the invasion, and with the recent tumultuous collapse of the Kenyan military, there was nothing to stand between even this small force and the capitol city of Nairobi. Mbonda closed his eyes, smiling beatifically as he imagined Kenya's cowed and weak president handing the reigns of government over to him, Uganda's greatest hero.

Even as far away as the shores of Lake Victoria, people could see the dust rising from the soldiers' advance. Even Godatu's old eyes could see the yellow pall on the horizon, and he sighed as he laid his hand on his daughter's shoulder. "They did not waste much time."

"Yes, Father." Lyell's voice sounded tense and frustrated.

Godatu gave her shoulder a pat. "They will reach Nairobi within a few days. It is good that you have come here."

"But my friends at the university!" Lyell cried. "What about them?"

"Perhaps they will leave, too."

Lyell growled and bit her lip. "There won't even BE a university if they reach Nairobi. Father, can't something be done?"

Godatu shrugged. "There is no army now. They know that. That is why they have come."

"No one to stop them," Lyell whispered. She was quiet for a long time, looking down at her paws. Finally, she gathered the courage to ask. "Father..."

Godatu put a finger to her lips. He looked from his daughter's face to the ominous dust cloud, and back again. Slowly he smiled and gave her a gentle hug. "Yes, my daughter. You may."

General Mbonda continued to gaze ahead, lost in his dreams of glory, and was annoyed when Major Kunde interrupted them. "Sir," he said hesitantly, "Shouldn't we increase our speed through this valley? It's the perfect place for an ambush."

Mbonda glowered and looked up at the towering walls on either side. The path of a long-dead river, the valley snaked its way through the Kenyan highlands, turning so often and so abruptly that Mbonda could never see more than a fourth of his army behind him at one time. Its bed was smooth and level, though, and was far easier travel than the rugged land through which it cut. It was for this reason that he had decided to tak this route, and he did not like anyone implying that his idea might not have been a good one.

"Be quiet!" he growled. "We will not be ambushed."

"But, Sir!" Kunde whined. "We are boxed in! The canyon's too narrow, and we've no room to maneuver. If were were attacked now..."

The general drew back his hand as though to strike Kunde, who flinched and abruptly silenced himself. "And just WHO will attack us, Major? A few Masai herdsmen? The Kenyan army no longer exists. Do you hear me? No longer exists! They are gone -- period. I would not have been so foolish as to come this way if I feared an ambush. Now, if you are worried about some Masai rolling rocks down onto your head, then put on a helmet and shut up." His voice dropped to a mutter as Kunde sank back into his seat. "I will never understand what my sister saw in you."

General Mbonda faced forward again and resumed practicing his vic- tory speech. It was not long before he was interrupted again, however, and this made him furious.

"Obstacle ahead, General," his driver called.

"What?" Mbonda peered through the dust as his jeep rolled to a halt. Behind him, the long, serpentine column halted as well, and the questioning grumbles of soldiers who could not see around the bend reached his ears.

"It's one of the lion people from the south," Kunde piped up. "A female."

Mbonda silenced Kunde with a sharp glare as he swung down from the jeep. "I have eyes, idiot." He stepped forward, towards a line of rocks that had been piled into a low wall across the width of the canyon. And before that wall stood the lion-woman, motionless, save for the flicking of her tail that Mbonda took to be a sign of nervousness. "Well, what's this?" he said pleasantly. "Do you talk, Dame Lion?" He glanced at the T-shirt which, other than a loincloth, was her only adornment. "Nairobi University? I supposed that means you DO talk. What is your name, Dame Lion?"

The lion woman smiled and gave a polite little bow. "I am Lyell."

Mbonda waited for more, and not hearing it, he frowned a bit. "Lyell. A pretty name. Well, Lyell, did you pile all those rocks up by yourself?"

She smirked and ignored the question. "My father has given me per- mission to stop you; but first, I would like to give you a chance to turn around and go home."

General Mbonda burst out laughing, and was followed on cue by his officers. "Ah-ha, the Kenyan army has arrived at last! Now now, Lyell, I don't want to hurt you -- I've only the highest respect for your people. So, why don't you go home yourself? I am sure your father would understand."

"No, General," Lyell said, taking a few slow steps forward. "It is you who must go home. I don't want to ask again."

Mbonda chortled and shook his head, then turned to Major Kunde. "Have the men clear these rocks, Major, and if....Major? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Major Kunde's eyes were wide, and his mouth hung open. "General," he squeaked, "she's...g..."

"She's what?" Mbonda spun around just in time to see Lyell's stretched T-shirt burst apart and flutter to the ground in tatters, followed quickly by her loincloth. She took another unhurried step, and grew larger still. Another step, and her huge shadow fell across the general. Another, and the shadow reached to the front line of infantry, who gaped in astonishment. Still another step, and the rock walls shuddered with the impact.

Lyell stopped and peered down at the tiny man between her feet. She flexed her toes, the claws driving deep into the hard earth, and let her gaze wander along the stream of upturned faces until it disappeared around the bend in the canyon. "I will ask one more time, General, and then I will not ask again. Will you go home now?"

Mbonda cried out and fell back as the thundering voice echoed off the canyon walls. He fumbled for his sidearm and began to fire wildly at the looming giantess. Little ruffles in the fur showed where the bullets struck, but she did not even flinch at the impacts. "Very well, General," her voice boomed, "it's your decision." Lyell slowly lifted one giant paw. With one hand on the rim of the canyon for balance, she swung her foot forward and watched as the little man disappeared beneath it. Then, deliberately, she began to lower it down.

General Mbonda screamed in primal terror as the huge paw descended toward him; it seemed to grow even larger as it approached, blotting out his view of the sky. He continued to jerk the trigger on his pistol, helplessly watching the little indentations made by the bullets in her leathery pads as they bounced off. He screamed again as the empty gun clicked, and the leathery flesh fell on and around him. The surface yielded a little as his body was pressed into the pad; he struggled, and then could struggle no more as the impossible weight began to increase. Once more he screamed, a muffled sound, the scream quickly thinning to a squeal, and then a gurgle.

Lyell smiled as she slowly leaned her full weight onto her foot; there was a satisfying crack, followed by a wet crunch and the feel of warmth bubbling between her toes. She paused there, aware of the sudden and total silence in the canyon. For many moments she simply gazed at the soldiers, who stared back in shock, motionless. Then, from somewhere in their midst came a flash of orange. There was a whistling hiss, then a roar as a rocket shell burst on her right breast, leaving a smear of soot in the fur above the nipple. Gunfire erupted from the seething mass at her feet, and her fur rippled with hundreds of tiny impacts, like raindrops. She bared her teeth in a cruel grin, tail lashing like a whip behind her. "That does it!" she snarled, and strode forward.

The first company of soldiers died even before they could scream as Lyell's massive foot swept through their ranks, kicking them aside and sending them hurtling into the canyon wall. She stepped forward into their midst, each foot falling heavily onto the panicked soldiery, and lifting to leave behind a deep crater filled with twitching gore. Mangled bodies stuck briefly to the underside of her paws and then fell upon the heads of those still living, driving their panic to the level of madness. They began to claw at one another, fighting like mindless beasts, desperate to escape before being crushed like ants underfoot.

Lyell at first strolled casually over the packed carpet of soldiers, not caring where her feet fell. To her, it felt as though she were walking in the river mud after the rains, her feet sinking deep into wet softness which welled up warmly between her toes. But this mud writhed pleasingly against her pads, a delicious sensation, an arousing one. The scent of blood flooded her nostrils. The terrified screams from below filled her ears. She felt almost giddy, a hollow, lustful feeling boiling up within her with each murderous footfall. She began to purr, and an eager gleam came to her eye as she scanned the mob and slowly licked her whiskers.

The soldiers in the middle ranks milled in confusion as the curious sounds from around the bend ahead grew louder, and the companies in front of them seemed to be pushing back, compressing them into a tighter and tighter mass. Suddenly a cry arose from a single throat, and it was joined by countless others as around the bend appeared the towering form of a lion- woman, as tall as the walls of the canyon themselves. Her eyes half-lidded, she held one hand cupped to her left breast and was half-consciously massaging it as she wandered forward, herding the fleeing soldiers before her. Each step rocked the earth and crushed out the lives of a dozen or more men, and those who were briefly fortunate enough to be passed by were dashed to pieces by her swinging tail.

Lyell paused for a second as she stepped around the bend and saw a veritable unbroken stream of humanity at her feet. The hollow feeling in her gut turned to burning fire, and her purr rose in volume until it was nearly a savage growl. Her trampling became less haphazard and more deliberate, her mighty legs pumping as she stamped her feet on the men. She moaned as the writhing bodies tickled her pads. Gleefully, she chose spots where the packed crowd seemed particularly dense and crashed her foot down hard, licking again at her whiskers as redness splashed against the rock walls. She began to tease them, holding her foot threateningly over one part of the crowd and then moving it slowly over another; then she would stomp hard, grinding her foot cruelly, feeling flesh turn to liquid and laughing as gore spurted up onto the surrounding soldiers. The blood- lust within her soared, carrying her with it, and demanded more.

The giantess stepped forward once again into the screaming mass and crouched down, nearly losing her footing on the slick wetness that had not yet been squeezed from under her foot by her weight. Her eyes scanned the mob, searching, and finally fell on one whose gaudy decorations made him stand out from the others.

Kunde howled in terror as he saw and enormous hand reaching down toward him. In desperation he pummeled the nearest soldier in an effort to beat an escape path, but suddenly a leathery pad pressed against his face, smothering his horrified yell. Another settled on his back, and he felt an unbearable pressure against his torso as his feet left the ground. He wriggled helplessly, somehow managing to turn his head to the side and gulping air, his fists pounding at the unyielding fingers that gripped him.

His mind reeled at the nightmarish image: the massive body, horrible yet beautiful, rushing by as he was lifted, and then the terrifying lion- face, teeth bared hungrily, its eyes regarding him with the callous gaze of a cat who has caught a mouse. He babbled wildly, shouting pleas for his life; but his begging, if heard, was ignored.

The giantess chuckled and opened her jaws wide; her long tongue slipped out, and she half-pushed, half-tossed the little man into her waiting mouth. Kunde landed hard on her tongue and scrambled to gain footing, but just then the enormous teeth clashed shut, forming an ivory cage behind him. Her tongue reared up, squeezing him against the roof of her mouth and dragging him forward. He managed one last, thin wail as his body was squeezed down into the dark void of her throat.

Lyell slowly swallowed, purring at the little man's pleasant struggles. She could feel him thrashing in her stomach, a sensation that added to the lustful fires within her and drove her to near-frenzy. Her immense hand swept through the crowd, gathering up a squirming mass of soldiers and lifting them to her mouth. She crammed them in and closed her mouth around them, tasting blood, and then gulped hard. With an effort she swallowed them down, then hastily scooped up two more handfuls. These, too, she stuffed into her mouth and swallowed whole, groaning loudly as her stomach filled with the twitching mass. She let out a roar, giving voice to her excitement, and reached down again. Another hapless group fell under her groping fingers; she gathered them up and tossed them gleefully into her gaping maw. This time, though, she bit down slowly, and felt the grinding of bones between her teeth. Blood poured down in rivers from between her lips, its flavor driving her past all reason and mercy as her predatory instincts awakened and seized control.

She reached down for yet another handful of succulent morsels, but then roared in surprise as she found none within reach. The infantry had managed, finally, to break its gridlock and had retreated down the canyon while she had been enjoying her meal. She stood up, ready to give chase, just as the first of the tanks rolled into view. There were several bright flashes, and small puffs of flame and smoke blossomed in her fur, leaving black, faintly smouldering patches of fur in their wake.

The giantess loosed another roar, an angry one that shook the very foundations of the earth, and charged forward, her feet slamming rhythmically upon the canyon floor like twin avalanches. She bore down on the little machines that stood between her and her army -- HER army, her playthings, her prey! She loomed over the first tank and raised her mighty foot high, smashing the tank into flattened wreckage. The marksmen who had been crouched in its cover bolted, but she caught them in both hands and squeezed powerfully. She heard their bodies pop moistly and laughed, flinging the mangled remains aside.

The remaining tanks fared no better. She smashed them with ease, kicking them aside and flattening them like tin cans underfoot. The fires within her burned as never before, driving her to hunt down the remaining soldiers.

She caught them around the next bend, where they had stopped in their headlong retreat in a vain effort to regroup -- a costly mistake. With a savage snarl the giantess bent and seized one of the few remaining tanks in her hand. She flung the metal behemoth effortlessly toward the scrambling army. It sailed over their heads, landing in their path and exploding in a blaze of spilled fuel and bursting ammunition. The soldiers halted, trapped by a curtain of fire, and turned as one to see the rampaging giantess bearing down on them.

Lyell slowed her advance, watching the mob press back closer and closer to the flames. A thousand voices screamed in terror, some praying, others pleading, still others simply babbling in mindless fear. A snarl curled her lip, a hungry snarl, though her belly by now was full. Her chest heaved with her panting, her nipples, erect, making her arousal obvious.

For a moment all was still, the crackling of the flames the only sound. The giantess peered down at her trapped victims, her tail writhing excitedly behind her. Then, with roar of laughter, she strode forward into the heart of the crowd and dropped to a crouch, hands sweeping through their midst. The lucky ones were struck down and killed as she grasped for them; others, not so fortunate, were caught in her fingers and squeezed mercilessly in her grip as she lifted them and bore them up between her massive thighs. The broad cleft of her vagina quivered, its fleshy folds growing warm and red as her hands ground the shrieking soldiers against them and then began to force their struggling bodies into the depths. Screams became muffled and were lost as dozens of men were thrust into the eager cleft, their desperate flailing only adding to the giantess's pleasure. Juice, thick and sweet, began to run from the slit and splash onto the heads of those who still scurried beneath her.

Lyell moaned loudly, and then loosed a roar of pure pleasure as she stuffed another handful of luckless men into her body. Ripples of ecstacy coursed through her, and she squeezed the victims clutched in her other hand to her breast, crying out once again as they thrashed against her tender nipple. "Yes," she growled, clenching her teeth, "Yes, squirm, you little insects, squirm! Please me!" She shuddered and rolled to her back, heedless of the tiny cries from underneath her. "SQUIRM!" she roared again, pressing one last handful against her man-stuffed cleft and shuddering. Warmth flooded her body, and her breath caught, strangling off her roars as the struggles of her victims drove her to climax. Her legs stiffened and kicked; the powerful muscles of her vagina bore down, and blood and juices began to ooze from between her fingers. She lashed out, her foot striking at the burning wreck of the tank and scattering it, permitting the few survivors to flee. She did not care -- she heard only the rush of blood in her ears, felt only the pulpy mass slowly growing softer inside of her with each spasm...

She was not certain how long she lay in the canyon, surrounded by the hundreds that she had slain. Slowly she sat up, breath shallow and rapid, and felt the crumpled remains of what had once been soldiers shift within her. Her stomach felt full, the good, contented fullness of a heavy meal. She looked around, shocked by the magnitude of the destruction she had caused. Her feet were soaked in blood, halfway up her calves, and her muzzle and breasts as well. Shivering, she began to clean the mess from between her legs, and then saw a single figure approaching.

Lyell thought at first that it was a soldier who had escaped the massacre, and was surprised that he would return while she was still there. But then the figure shuffled closer, and she recognized her father.

Old Godatu made his way up to his daughter's enormous leg and leaned against it. "You certainly stopped them, Child." He saw her hang her head, and shook out his mane. "You did well, my daughter. They would only have come back again if you had let them go. This way, at least, they will have nothing left to fight with."

Lyell tried to wipe her hands on the fur of her belly. "Father..." she began, her voice catching.

"Hush, my daughter. Pick me up -- do not mind the blood. It is not as though I've never seen any." Godatu stood still as his daughter gently wrapped her fingers about his body and lifted him to her face. "When you were a child, I would rarely permit you to use your power, because a child does not understand the responsibility. Now you are a woman, and you have the wisdom to know when such a power may be used." He laid an aged hand on her cheek. "And HOW such power is to be used."

Lyell sniffed and carefully rubbed her cheek against her father. "But... what I did...I enjoyed it. I feel like --"

"Like a lioness." Godatu smiled. "It is what you are. Your ancestry cannot be ignored. If you had not enjoyed it, I would have wondered if you were truly Godatu's daughter. You have the wisdom now, too, to allow your- self to explore your instincts."

She began to reply, but Godatu stopped her. "Enough talk, my daughter. Take this old lion home so he can rest; it was a long walk to come here. Tomorrow we shall talk more. For now, though, let it be enough to say that your father is very proud of you."